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Now come,” he said. “Does your Alex love you back, or is he a hopeless idiot?” “He loves me,” she said quietly. “But I’m afraid he’ll stop after we marry. He’ll change his mind. He’ll—” “He’ll love you more. Trust me.” “Really?” She was far too somber. “Really.” He had no words to make her smile, and so Gareth tweaked her nose. And she giggled. It had been a long time since he’d laughed. But despite all those years, he still remembered how. What he’d forgotten was the lightness of his soul when he did so. The moment was perfect. ↗
As a child I always wanted to be a singer. The music my mother played in the house moved me - Aretha Franklin, Chaka Khan, Mahalia Jackson. It was truly spiritual. It made you understand what God was. We are all spirits. We get depressed. But music makes you want to live. I know my music has saved my life. ↗
I was dreaming about this—except it feels even better than I thought it would. Fucking fantastic. Clean sheets. You" Warrick moved across and kissed him gently, exactly as he’d imagined. Soft cotton and warm skin against him, soothing and luxurious. Hand on his back, touching carefully. He had a moment of fear that this was the dream, that soon he would wake up in the cell. Then a noise distracted him: distant firing in the city. He tensed, and Warrick’s hand stroked a circle over his shoulder-blade. More firing, but it was nothing to do with him. Nothing to worry about, even if he could manage it. Safe, here. He recaptured the tail end of a thought, before it disappeared into sleep. "Just you. ‘S enough." If Warrick said anything in reply, Toreth didn’t hear it. ↗
#manna-francis #the-administration #toreth-x-warrick #dreams
If technology has finally caught up with individual liberty, why would anyone who loves freedom want to rethink that? ↗